Dragonborns and Thanes
by my-blue-eyes-can-cry
Summary: The dragonborn isn't who everybody thinks he is, and his housecarl is the hero the Nirn is desperately waiting for, but lies and love and duty are the foundation of the history books that will be written for the defeat of Alduin.


**I am attempting a completely different kind of fic on this one, where the dragonborn is not actually dragonborn and desperately craves greatness and a curious housecarl who would say anything for her Thane, a housecarl who can consume dragons souls and read their language. Hope you enjoy this fic, R&R**

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Light sprayed across her face as she lit her torch, her thane walked steps ahead with his head high and bold.

Lydia had followed Aureum closely, her lip to the point of splitting in nerves, although she was practiced with her blade, she had never braved the Nordic ruins that littered Skyrim's landscape.

Her mother told her stories of the old constructs beneath the layers of earth that the men and women inside would awake when the end is coming, that they were waiting for their dragon masters to finally take them like they took so many others.

They would wake when they were disturbed, angry and desperate, nothing could separate them from their end, their religion.

Her mother's stories left her with chills even now as she took deep breaths of rotten air and staggered steps.

"My thane?" She asked, biting her tongue in anxiety.

Aureum turned back to look at her for a split moment, the bright orange light of their torches reflected strongly of the bright white of his hair and his pale skin.

The Imperial was a strange man to behold, chiseled features of sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, his hair was tied back into a short braid and as white as the sun on a cloudy day, his eyes were the strangest, violet, surrounded by permanent black circles of bruising on his translucent skin.

He suffered two brutal wounds that left him with a strong weakness, the cartilage of his ears was cut off, his hearing was mildly impaired by this and he brought with him a companion wherever he went, in case they heard something that he did not.

He was very thin, although he was still laced with muscle and his skin was hard and veins pumping. And he stood higher than any Nord she knew, to be honest, if it weren't for his strong accent, she wouldn't even know what race he was.

"Yes, Lydia?" He asked softly, his Imperial accent heavily decorating his words.

"I was just wondering… why are we down here again?" She cursed herself internally at the lack of formality in her voice, as a Housecarl, it was expected of her to speak to her Thane as a master, and Aureum preferred his companions to speak with him like they would a court.

He dismissed her tongue, "I've heard stories of this place… treasure and greatness" He flashed a grin as they walked, his leather armor shifting at every step.

The Thane of Whiterun had an obsession since he came to Skyrim, to become legendary. He was a scholar and in their home in Whiterun he kept books piling on every surface.

Lydia nodded as she followed; her Thane was brave and deserved greatness, but the way he searched for danger frightened the Nord girl who was the bravest of the guards.

They stepped further and further into the tomb, dust fell from the walls as they walked the narrow halls.

And finally her nightmares woke; Aureum quickly drew his elven bow and pulled back the drawstring. Lydia did not jump at the hint of battle the way her thane did, slowly aiming her already drawn sword higher, at her waist.

The moaning she heard first, the creaking of bones and the drawing of ancient weapons.

"Draugr" Her thane smiled, she dared only think the word.

"_Join the Dead!" _The words spat out of a rotten mouth, and Lydia was taken aback. The creature spoke words that sounded completely unlike what she truly _heard _she knew what the words meant, an automatic translation.

She couldn't wrap her mind around it, her mother never mentioned their language translation, she said they spoke the language of the dragons but Lydia didn't _know _the language of the dragons!

She looked up at the dragonborn in those split moments of thought, his face was smiling and ready, his eyes showed nothing of interest; perhaps he did not hear the draugr.

She saw the rotten flesh then, the dragonborn impaled the old grey flesh with several arrows, flying faster than she could blink.

It didn't matter how many years of hard training she performed, the long hours of guard duty before she was promoted, she was the best of the Whiterun army but none of it mattered at all in comparison to the silver Imperial who stood before her in the aftermath of the battle, he was a warrior true to the description.

They stepped through every room of the crypts, she became less and less afraid of the monsters that slept in their stone beds, and she heard the language of the dragons speaking in her head, perfectly translated into her native tongue.

Aureum collected many treasures, her Thane handed her the weighty items, gold and jewels and weaponry.

She took heavy steps; they shouldn't be down much longer.

But she took a deep breath of excitement when she entered the final room.

Intricate carvings followed the length of the walls, lacing the stone with stories and memories, the room was lit by mysterious torches, and she wondered who tended those small fires.

At the far wall was what she could only assume to be an old Nordic puzzle, she heard of them, without the appropriate claw they were supposed to be impenetrable.

Something so impenetrable should be used as a cage, not a guard; to keep monstrosities inside rather than out.

Aureum began straight away, she did not know where he got the claw for the door, but it was only minutes until he had worked it out.

And when they stepped inside the ancient cave, bats flew out the door to their freedom, to her absolute relief, the draugr deathlord that would have been waiting for them never woke, dust crumbled from its limbs when they stepped closer.

"Now, my dearest Lydia, what is this great construct?" Her thane asked, and she looked up.

It was old, very old, cracks graved deep into its stone, and there were words upon its face, scratched onto its surface permanently by the looks of mighty claws.

She was so confused now, she could read it but the words were not written in the common tongue.

"My thane, this place is playing with my head…" Lydia said with a shaky voice, "I'm afraid…"

And she was more frightened than she ever thought she could be.

The words were speaking to her in a thousand tongues and one word in particular, one fantastic and wonderful and _powerful _word that spoke directly to her soul.

"Wuld?" Lydia whispered curiously, the dragonborn looking at her like she was a madwoman.


End file.
